Trading guilts

It’s after 10 a.m., and I’m still in my pajamas. Thing 1 is too. Thing 2 isn’t, but that’s because he had a diaper blowout on his pajamas. I need a shower. The dishwasher is waiting to be emptied. And my office/craft room is a disaster area. And all I’d really like to do is go back to bed and get some sleep.

I was up until after 2 a.m. last night. These things happen when The Cat in the Hat isn’t here to drag me to bed. Actually, I usually drag him to bed, because he’s fallen asleep on the couch waiting for me. He looks so uncomfortable sleeping there, I give up on what I’m doing and head to bed with him in tow. But when he’s gone, the need-to-get-things-done guilt calls stronger than the must-rest-to-take-care-of-babies guilt. So, I was up late last night, but I didn’t get much done. Instead, I was researching cloth diapering.

Yes, you heard that right. I’m thinking about incorporating some cloth diapers into our routine. Why? Oh, because the piles of laundry (clean and dirty) distributed throughout my house like large gopher holes simply aren’t enough for me. I’d like to add piles that are wet and poopy.

Actually, that’s not it. It will probably be a consequence, but it’s not the force driving me to try this. Instead, it’s so I can trade big lifetime guilt and worry for small day-to-day guilt and worry.

Last night I was up worrying about landfills, poo in the groundwater, covering my kids’ bodies with chemicals, slight bottom rashes that never fully go away, and the legacy I’m leaving for my kids. Physically and psychologically. When my kids are grown, I never want to hear them say, “My parents were alright, but so backwards. They filled a landfill with my dirty diapers.” Okay, so I’ll never actually hear this, but I don’t even want to worry about hearing this. So, I’m trading in worries. I’m trading in one long lasting parenting guilt that will keep me up many nights over the next few years for a guilt that will keep me up late a few nights here and there to get the laundry done. I don’t care if it gets folded and put away. And, in the event that I take TCITH to bed because he looks uncomfortable, and the laundry doesn’t get done, I won’t sweat it. I’ll slap a disposable diaper on whoever can’t be bothered to go on the potty yet. And I’ll try not to feel too guilty about it. Why? Because I’m a middle of the road mom who doesn’t feel compelled to pick a lane and stick with it forever, consequences and inconveniences be damned. And because I think I’ll be a better mom with some sleep. And clothes. And a shower.

I’m going to go work on those last two now.

Had a nice time at the party – Video Post

Thanks to everyone who visited! Look for my after-party post in the next week. And as promised, a song.

We interrupt this party with another nanny cam scene

Another CNN nanny cam story.

And this time, I’m in agreement with just about everything they said. This woman should be charged with abuse. I still think this doesn’t happen often and it’s a shame the media loves to breed fear in working parents (and everyone else for that matter) by exploiting the worst case scenarios. Still, it can happen and it’s a good reminder to be diligent in trying to keep it from happening to your kids.

Directions for the party

Before kids, I was very good at reading and following directions. On Christmas, I was the one curled up on the couch surrounded by all the sets of instructions that came with my gifts. And sometimes the ones from other people gifts. (I love being able to tell people how they should be doing something.) But since kids, and especially when TCITH is gone, it takes a few attempts for me to get things right.

Take the Ultimate Blog Party, for example. I thought I had read (and even re-read) the directions. I checked that I followed them. And, indeed, I did. But further reading reveals extra credit directions for winning prizes. I love earning extra credit even when I’m not being graded. So, even though I’m not following the directions faithfully, I’m going to give this my best shot.

For those of you who haven’t seen the prize list, it’s a doozy! Over 150 entries of cool stuff we can win, just for sharing what’s on our mind. Nobody else gives me anything for giving them a piece of my mind — except my husband who gives me a piece of his right back.

Here’s the three I’d most like to win:

• #48 – Story Package by Cherish Bound  
  Don’t ask me why, but I really want to capture every family memory clearly. After all, my mom tells me I was a perfect baby, but now that I have babies of my own, I’m thinking her memories aren’t so clear. I want to be able to tell my kids what brats they were. And what angels.
• #62 – Boca Beth Bilingual beginner set
  Again, for reasons I don’t fully understand, I want my kids to be bilingual. But, sadly, I am not.
• #137 BPA free sippy cup sampler
  Yet another prize I’m drawn to for unexplained reasons. I worry about BPA even though I don’t want to, because, really, I’ve got enough worries to last me through my kids’ college years. Still, this could allay some of those worries. Plus, I’ll need some new sippy cups for Thing 2.

I also wouldn’t mind getting prize numbers 7, 82, 110, 142 or 145. Plus anything with a gift card, especially for Amazon, Starbucks or Target. (Yay! Target is coming to Hawaii!) Wish me luck — Momma needs a new pair of shoes!

Now it’s time for me to go drink honeyed tea and rest my voice. I need to practice for my singing post before this party’s over!

And the party continues…with cockroaches

I know for many the Ultimate Blog Party is winding down. But I’ve always been one of the last to leave a party. That’s usually because I’m one of the last to arrive, but we’ll save my problem with punctuality for another post. Tonight, there’s some other party business I need to take care of.

First, a big thank you and ALOHA! to everyone who has stopped by my party pad. Especially those who’ve left comments. The UBP is the first time I shared my blog with anyone, so it was a bit scary. It’s been a pleasant experience. Everyone has been so darn nice! Of course, that introduces a new problem. I want to visit everyone’s blog and try to leave comments, but there’s only so many hours in a day. I’m slowly getting through it though. Everyone seems so interesting and has great things to say, I just hope I can find time to keep visiting again and again. I also need to find a way to keep track of all the neat things I find out there. Hmm, perhaps another blog…

The second bit of party business I have deals with cockroaches. I can’t believe I promised to blog about this, since it’s not something I’m proud of or happy with. In fact, it’s a bit of a skeleton in my closet that I hide from friends, although the problem is so new it’s really more like a decomposing body. (The imagery just keeps getting better, eh?) Here’s the deal with my cockroaches:

Last summer, I had a few (I think) cockroaches take up residence in my garage. Now, I did not grow up around cockroaches and would have been happy to continue life in that vein. But, noo-ooo-oo, we had to move to paradise. With the cockroaches. I’m sure my over-the-top reaction to seeing one is funny to some (my husband, at least), but I’m not laughing. It’s hard to laugh when you’re screaming, crying and running. I’ve been told that they are more afraid of me than I am of them, but I’m pretty sure I had some freak cockroaches who were missing that fear gene. Case in point: one night I was heading into the garage to hide Thing 1’s birthday gift (a tricycle). There — out in the open — was a cockroach. Now, I’ve had experience flipping on the light, screaming and seeing a little bugger scatter. This one did not scatter. He lifted up those long, shudder-inducing antennae and stared me down. Or at least was going to. It wasn’t much of a staring contest. That little guy’s I-own-this-place attitude scared me so much the scream stuck in my throat. I quickly backed into the house and shut the door, leaning on it for support once I was safe on the other side. Or so I thought. About two weeks later that brazen bug (or one of his comrades) decided the garage wasn’t enough and tried to take over my kitchen. So there I was, 39 weeks pregnant, with a two year old sleeping upstairs and a husband 1,000 miles away, sobbing on the couch. Where was I going to live if the cockroaches evicted me? Luckily in the daylight — and after buying a can of Raid — I was much braver. I went on the hunt. So, two nights, three hysterical phone calls to my family, and a can of Raid later, I had defeated the cockroach. He was legs up on my kitchen floor. End of story, right?

It was until 2-3 weeks ago, when I found a couple little cockroaches scurrying around on my cupboard doors. These were small, but I still screamed and ran away. However, I was brave enough to return with a fly swatter and kill them. Still, late at night, I sat on the couch curled up in fear, thinking of the size they could become. To put my fears to rest, I called in the cavalry.  Today, Dale Gribble’s colleague visited, put a few drops of something here and there, set out a few traps and told me my cockroach problems were over. Or would be in 10 days or so. I think I’ll be keeping all the lights on until then.

And that, my friends, is how I tackled my cockroach problem. Except the little ones that occasionally get in my car. That’s a definite driving hazard (“Officer, the lady let loose a blood-curdling scream just before she rammed into that lightpost.”), so I’ll have to consider what to do about that. I think spraying a can of Raid into the air ducts might not be so healthy in an enclosed space. Perhaps I should cover every air duct to keep them out. After all, who needs air conditioning in Hawaii?

** 

Have you ever came up with a list of ideas for small talk, because you were nervous about fitting in at a party? There’s probably a good reason it didn’t include cockroaches. I’ll admit, my party small talk is a bit rusty. I haven’t been getting out much lately. But, there’s still three days left for the UBP, so maybe I’ll fit in by the time I’m forced to leave.

Bonus party post: photo

I feel like I’ve been neglecting Thing 1 and Thing 2 on here lately. To make up for it, I thought I’d share a recent photo. I tried to show a new side of me with this photo too, mom without the mess. But to be truthful, I had to clear off the loveseat for the shot.

What they say is true, the photo does a better job of showing their personalities than I could do in 1,000 words. All I can add is they’re my little goofballs, and I love them.

It’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to

Thank goodness for the Ultimate Blog Party this week. Otherwise I’d be crying in my beer alone. I see you looking over my shoulder for someone more upbeat to talk to, but really, this isn’t too bad. Here’s the story…

I’m fairly close to my family, even though we are separated by thousands of miles of water, give or take. (They’re on the west coast, I’m in Hawaii. I don’t have my globe handy to measure the actual distance.) Put another way, we’re separated by hundreds of dollars (maybe thousands these days) in airline tickets. I was last home to visit for our whirlwind mainland family tour of 2006. I miss my family, and when my husband (The Cat in the Hat) is out on his submarine, I miss them even more.

Today, I got a call from TCITH. That’s a good thing, since it doesn’t happen often when he’s gone. So, why do I want to cry? He was sitting on my parents couch. Yes, the navy took my husband to visit my family while I’m stuck at home with our two young children. How unfair is that?

But, enough about them. I hope they’re happy together. And, as some commenters have pointed out, it’s hard for me to evoke sympathy when I live in Hawaii. It’s true. My life’s not half bad. We play outside every day of the year. Even tonight, while the midwest is buried under snow, we walked around swatting mosquitoes as we visited neighbors out on their front porches. If you ever have to have a sucky life, Hawaii is the place to do it.

So, I’ll light the torches while you blend up the lava flows and we can party outside in our shorts and slippers. In fact, if you would please, make mine a double. Tomorrow I tackle my cockroach problem.

Enjoy the drink!

If only I had something to wear

It’s been a very long time since I’ve been invited to a party. It’s been even longer since I’ve been able to attend one. So, it is with much enthusiasm that I am taking part in the Ultimate Blog Party from 5 minutes for mom. It’s my kind of party, because I can just stay home. Like my mom used to say, “Let’s not and say we did.”

If you’re attending this party, welcome. This is my blog, which is nearly as new to me as it is to you. It’s only purpose for the moment is to share the little joys and messes in my life, abandoned on an island with two kids.

We live in Hawaii. My husband, The Cat in the Hat, is in the navy, and they (the navy) saw fit to bring us here (far from family and friends) during the childbearing years of our marriage. And then they decided that wasn’t providing enough comic relief, so they’ve sent my husband out to sea for the majority of our time here. Bills, birthdays, and births, I do it all alone. (FYI: He was here for the conception.) But now at least I have somewhere to blog about it. (NFYI: I won’t be blogging about the conception.)

I promise, this won’t be my last party post this week. Tune in later for my solo battles with my children (Thing 1 and Thing 2), cockroaches and island fever. And, what’s a party without music? You won’t want to miss a special upcoming post, a song sung by Me.

Please, be a social butterfly and visit the other partiers. Just be sure to come back and check in with me from time to time. I hate standing in the corner alone. Plus, cockroaches and bad songs — how can you resist?)

And please, if you make a mess, remember: Somebody has to clean that up.

** 

ETA: Really, I can follow directions. See this post for my top prize picks.

Package delivery for Momma = bad math

Two packages came today. And they were both for me! I rarely get one, but two was a pleasant surprise.

The first one was on my doorstep after our trip to the library this morning. It’s a Palm Pilot and instructions I need to participate in a beverage study. Yeah, those studies you read about (4 out of 5 people have received two packages in one day during 2008), that’s gonna be me. I’m excited because I just signed up to do surveys (for money) and I’m already in this study. I could get up to $60 for tracking some habits for 2 weeks. And they sent me $10 (on a Visa gift card) upfront. Woohoo! Momma needs a new pair of…socks? What can you get for $10. How about underwear. I had to throw some away today. Victoriassecret.com here I come. Or, for $10, maybe just Walmart.

 Actually, I need the money, because the second package I received is stuff I ordered from Amazon.com. It’s all for work, but it’s still $90 out of my pocket, and so far I haven’t collected a cent for working this year. Too bad the numbers on these two packages don’t cancel each other out. I guess I’ll keep my fingers crossed I qualify for more paid surveys and studys.

Of course, getting two packages is all the excuse I need to ditch my previous plans to clean this afternoon.  Here’s some more math for you: more stuff = more mess + less time to clean the mess. It’s a word problem, which I liked in school, but seem to be having problems with now. Maybe it’s because I never learned new math. Or maybe it’s simply because I hate to clean, so I collect more stuff. Oh well, I don’t have time to ponder the equation too much today, I’ve got new toys to play with and post about over on my SWAHM Mom blog.

My poor sick baby

Koen had the flu for two hours today. Yes, he had the two-hour flu. But I’m not off the hook yet, because it could be like the last time Ripley had the flu. She threw up once a day for 7 days. I can’t handle seven days of vomit from all of us. It would make me more than weak. (Yeah, I know. That was weak.)

It was really hard to watch him be sick. He woke up (early) from his nap vomiting. I cleaned him and his bed up and put him in a sling. He, my non-cuddly, active baby, just melted into my chest, with his head falling at odd angles if I didn’t support it. He was really pale. And the vomit and poo kept coming, and when they couldn’t any more he was dry heaving. It was so sad. He looked so weak and little.

When Ripley woke up, I ran us all to the store, worried that we would all come down sick and I’d have nothing in the house for us, just in case we felt like eating. Halfway through the commissary he picks his head up off my chest and is perfectly fine. He stayed that way the rest of the night. I guess that’s good. But I still need to get to bed and get some rest to be prepared for what could lie ahead.